A Red Picket Fence
It was another mid summer Saturday morning... A quick glance at the mid 20th century vintage red enamel clock hung over the steel cased window that was above the nearly seventy year old white porcelain sink showed that it wasn't quite ten. The high gloss yellow walls gleamed in the morning sun. All those gleaming walls did was remind him of her.
Fred Benson sat at the small chrome and yellow mother-of-pearl Formica breakfast table in the small kitchen in what had been the small, two story house he and his estranged wife had shared. It'd been four months since she'd left, and while the heartbreak and misery had been blunted by time, he was still miserable.
He missed her.
Staring at his coffee cup, he watched for wisps of steam to rise. There wern't any. He contemplated getting out of his blue terrycloth robe, showering, getting dressed for the day and beginning his chores: Mowing and watering the lawn, repairing one of the Adirondack chairs on the back patio that had lost a bolt, trimming the rose bushes - her rose bushes. That job he'd put off this entire spring. They were her rose bushes, and she had tended to them like a doting mother.
Had being the operative word.
Now, they were wild, ruby red, pink, white, yellow and orange explosions of color growing far out of their designated (by her) area. He would trim them back the way she liked them... But he wasn't sure why. Maybe he should just rip them out and plant something else - something that was lower maintenance.
After their argument that had turned into a nasty, running two day verbal battle over nothing... And a stupid nothing at that, she'd packed a valise and left, moving in with her twin sister. They had spoken once. One time. She had returned for a few things about two weeks after she had moved out. The conversation had begun well enough - even to the point of him nearly pleading with her to come back, to move back in. That had led to the inevitable 'I miss you's' and 'I love you's' and eventually some very satisfying sex.
But it had all come to naught.
During the post sex cuddling she had brought up the original subject again, and the cuddle had turned to verbal sparing, then yelling... And then she had packed what she had come for originally, and left.
And all of this over painting the fence. Who had ever heard of a fire engine red fence? But that's what she wanted and he'd refused, originally. After she left the second time, he'd bought the paint, and painted the white pickets standing guard against the world along the front of the yard, a glossy red. He'd then taken a picture and sent it to her.
He knows she got the message, he'd checked to make sure she had opened the attachment with her phone. She had.
No response at all... Nothing. No word from her for three and a half months.
He was at a loss of how to fix it... fix them.
Really, he thought, this was probably all meant to have happened anyway. The whole 'thing' being so strange.
He thought he would end up with the other twin to begin with. He thought that's what the other twin wanted. And then, she decided she was a Lesbian. How cliche, now she's Gay.
He chuckled to himself, as his last thoughts rhymed.
She'd been pretty brazen about coming out... He thought anyway. She did it at their first 'college' party when they were all Freshmen. She shows up with a 'girlfriend' and announced her lifestyle change to the world. Nobody really cared. Well, except him. Once again he was the last to know, as their other friend, and the twin he eventually married knew beforehand. He was kind of devastated, kind of. Maybe more somewhat disappointed. He was upset that they wouldn't be resuming their kind-of-failed relationship. But then, he hadn't been sure they would have anyway.
It was just disappointing, and weird.
That party was also when his first 'real' relationship had started with her twin, the woman that used to live here, with him. His wife.
About fifteen minutes after her now openly Gay sister arrived, she'd shown up, slightly drunk. Not five minutes later, she began hitting on him relentlessly. At first, he'd been a bit put off, but soon the Gay twin had sidled up to him and drunkenly slurred; "Go for it! She's been talking about you for weeks..."
He'd decided, what the hell, why not?
An hour and a half later, they'd given each other something no one could replace in the back seat of his inherited - from - his - uncle dark green '92 Lincoln Town Car. The car she'd named the USS Detroit due to it's enormous size. Six months later, he'd inherited his grandparents house near Magnolia Village - this house, with the gleaming yellow kitchen walls. They had soon moved in together... He couldn't have been happier. A year after that, they were married in this very back yard. The USS Detroit was right outside in the driveway now. They had spent not much money, but almost all their time restoring the car to showroom new condition, and then cleaning, repairing, painting and carpeting the house. She said she loved them both - the car since she felt safe in it, encased in a bit more than two tons of metal. The house because it was in a good neighborhood and 'cute'.
Now, here he was nearly four years later, just over twenty four years old, and soon to be divorced it seems.
He shook his head as if to clear the cobwebs, and took another sip of coffee. It was on the cold side of lukewarm. Lukewarm, cold... That would describe the other friend in this off kilter rectangle. He remembered her younger self, nearly a twig but with gorgeous brown hair and her devastatingly beautiful smile. For the first few weeks she had been the new Lesbians greatest fan. Congratulating her on her bravery at coming out, and her choices. That was until the newly minted Lesbian had gotten her brown haired best - friend - forever drunk, and took liberties... Liberties that were remembered in detail when the brown haired girl woke, hung over and sick, the next morning. The fallout from that had been nuclear. The trio's friendship had not survived. The old 'BFF' hit a brick wall, and shattered. Surprising even himself, he had taken the Gay blondes side. Drunk or not, Ms. Devastating Smile had let it happen, and he had told her as much. The dark haired girl with the killer smile had cut her ties with them all. Not only cut the ties, but chainsawed them, and moved to California. It had been pretty ugly. He doubted if any of them would ever want to contact her. Actually, he had tried, but was patently ignored. After his failed attempt, he didn't feel the need for further contact either... And he thought that strange as well - that he really didn't care - especially after all they had been through as kids. He'd heard she was in the medical field, and married now.
He stood, adjusted his robe, picked up his cooling coffee cup, took another gulp of the now even less warm coffee, and then poured the remains into the sink. He rinsed the cup out, squirted a dab of soap into it and washed it in some hot water. Placing the now clean cup upside down in the ancient yellow rubber covered wire dish rack, he watched a tiny bit of water drip onto the sky blue countertop. Both the dish rack and these cups, five cups he thought, were yard sale finds. He and his wife... His wife. Thinking about her as his wife was only in the legal sense now. He grimaced, leaned on the counter and stretched. He felt cold and empty thinking of past Saturday morning yard sale finds and all the fun involved. Fun that he couldn't see happening again. He shook his head in defeat. Those days were gone now. Only the memories remained.
He moved into the front room and picked up yesterdays socks and shoes that he'd dropped by the side of his chair last night. He then continued down the hallway to the master bedroom to deposit his shoes in the closet. He tossed yesterdays socks in the dirty clothes bin, and then stepped out of his solid gray boxers he'd worn to bed last night. He tossed them in the bin with the socks. He glanced over at his unkempt bed, their bed. He remembered the past times on and in that bed... The conversations, laughing, teasing, loving. He hadn't made it for the last week and really didn't feel a need to make it today. But he did, and he still wasn't sure why.
Ignoring it and the beds connection to her was easier.
Out in the hallway again, he had just pushed the bathroom door open and untied the sash on his robe while reaching for the shower valve when the doorbell rang. He turned and retied his robes sash as he retraced his steps back down the hallway and out into the front room. He opened the door...
She stood there, bashfully grinning, wearing 'the dress'.
They had scrimped and saved for the entire year after their marriage - a trip to Hawaii was their goal - a celebration of their first marriage anniversary. They had saved enough, made the trip, and had a wonderful time. Especially after their second day there. That day, while exploring some of the beachside shops, they saw 'the dress'. It had been tossed casually over a half manikin in a shops window. It had drawn them both in like moths to a flame instantly. The slightly faded pink tie die sundress seemed to exuded desire. The tiny spaghetti straps that were tied in bows at the top of the shoulders suggested sex... hours of satisfying, undiluted sex. It seemed to have been made for her, and her alone. She'd tried it on, and they both confirmed it. They way it hung, they way it clung, the way it fell to the floor - pooling in a pink suggestion at her feet when the two tiny bows on her shoulders were untied. It was all he could do to keep from taking her right there in the fitting room.
The shop had three in her size... They bought them all and immediately returned to their hotel room. It was nearly thirty hours later that they had to stop and step outside the room seeking some sort of substantial nourishment. Something besides room service.
That was the effect of 'the dress'.
This sundress had been the catalyst for more sexual escapades than he could really remember. Whenever she wore it, whatever the situation, he knew what she wanted. She wasn't in the mood for gentle caresses and feather like kisses. She wasn't in the mood for hours of foreplay and lovemaking, culminating in a simultaneously reached blissful event. No... When he found her in 'the dress', whether she had called him inside from working in the yard, or arriving home after a days work at his job, or just watching television on a Sunday evening, she was interested in only one thing. She wanted to be taken... Taken with no teasing, and taken quickly. She wanted fucking, with a capitol 'F'. It was quantity over quality - with as many orgasms reached in as little time possible, until they lay spent, gasping and tangled.
He started to comment, and opened his mouth to speak. She gently placed two fingers over his lips and shook her head. He understood. There would be no talking. He stepped back out of the doorway as she entered. She turned, closed the door, and locked it. She moved to the center of the room. She knelt slightly and placed a small, yellow patent leather clutch on the coffee table, and stood back up. He reached up to her shoulders and untied both bows.
The sundress slipped just a bit, exposing her left breast, and then hung on her right. She seemed fascinated with the slight failure of the dress, and openly stared at her partially exposed chest. He took the exposed breast and kneaded it gently while flicking his thumb over the nipple. She gasped, and made that moaning growl sound that she knew turned him into an animal. She smiled, and shimmied her hips and torso, causing the dress to fall to the floor - revealing her total nudity. She wasn't so much like a warming ray of sunshine on a windswept cloudy day. She was more like a bonfire in the forest, igniting everything around her.
He dropped his arm and stood back, facing her. Without expression he untied his robes sash, shook his arms and let the robe join the dress on the floor. He took her hips in both hands and nudged her back two steps, then pushed her onto the couch. The slight backwards fall accomplished his goal - she was on the couch with her legs spread. He knelt down on his knees directly in front of her and positioned himself between her legs, thus removing any possibility of her not knowing just what was going to happen.
He stared into her eyes as if he was going to hypnotize her, she stared back.
Without breaking his intense gaze, he began slowly and gently rubbing up and down on her damp, stimulated folds with his left thumb. He then reached up to her forehead and lightly tapped his index finger twice there, just between her eyes. He then slowly, delicately, and resolutely slid his finger down across the bridge of her nose, across her slightly parted lips, down over her chin, her neck, her chest and then between her breasts. She began to lightly pant. His finger continued down across her stomach, across her navel and stopped only at her pubic mound, where he tapped her twice. It was as if he was saying he wanted her connection to be total... Her bliss to include everything she was.
He never broke eye contact, she gasped, then moaned. He lowered his lips to the folds over her clit and slowly spread them apart with his fingers. He flicked her clit with his tongue a few times causing her to gulp in air, and moan... She... Was making different sounds... He sucked her clit in between his lips and began sucking her. It felt, and tasted different... She tasted saltier, muskier... His first thoughts were that she's been eating at Sam's for four months, and we are what we eat, and then he pulled his head back, and looked at her pussy.
He knew Melanie, and this wasn't her.
"WHAT THE... SAM!" He bellowed.
Sam grabbed him by both ears and pulled his head toward her.
"Look, she's not here, and hasn't been for a while. You want this, I want this, so take it. Be the first guy inside me... Do it." Sam said harshly.
His face clouded over and his eyes glazed. She raised her crotch slightly and pulled him into her. She began grinding her core on his mouth. His tongue shot out of his mouth going as deep as he could inside her.
"Oh god... Yes use your tongue... Right THERE!" She moaned.
Fred pulled back slightly and thought - Melanie wasn't exactly a quiet partner, but she wasn't like this - she'd never spoken, she'd only moaned - This was a massive turn on.
She grabbed the back of his head and shoved him back into her crotch and began an almost constant moaning. She began to shiver, buck her hips and cry out in a high pitched wail. He stuck his tongue into her as deeply as he could, licking her walls relentlessly. She bucked again, released her hold on the back of his head, and went limp - gasping in air.
"Damn Benson! That wa ah ah ah ah AH!" was all she got out before he had sucked her clit between his lips and began working her with his lips and tongue.
"GA GA GA GA GA GOD! YEEEEES! She cried and began bucking feverishly again. In a moment she began shivering while bucking and moaning like a wild animal. Once again, she went limp. Her mouth was wide open, her chest heaving as she tried to suck in huge gulps of air.
He reached around behind himself, picked up his robe and wiped his mouth and chin. Grabbing her hips with both hands, he pulled her up, and held her there with his left hand. With his right, he swirled the head of his dick around in her juices for a moment, then plunged into her.
"OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK YES OH FUCK YES YES FUCK YES YES YES!" She screamed and growled in time to their rhythm.
He was pulling her hips forward with each thrust... Over and over and over. She shivered and bucked, keened and wailed but he wouldn't stop the relentless lust powered pounding he had started.
He finally stopped, but was still inside her. She was in a neotantric haze. She felt his arms move up off her hips to the small of her back and lift. Her legs automatically wrapped around his torso and her arms around his neck. She was impaled on his dick.
She let out a loud, breathy grunt, and began grinding on his dick as he carried her into the bedroom and unceremoniously dropped her sideways on the bed somehow managing to stay inside her. He grabbed her hips, pulled her into position with her legs hanging over the side of the bed, and started pounding into her again. Her mind seemed comatose... But her body was wound tight. She was totally controlled by this fucking frenzy. Listening to his flesh slap hers, his muted grunts... feeling him inside her, pounding her into a blissful oblivion... All she could mange was more rhythmic grunts matching his own.
He still held her by her hips, pulling her into him, his forward motion matching each and every fleshy collision of their groins.
She was undone, and she knew it.
She'd lost count of how many times she'd cum. All she could get her mind to concentrate on was her continued need for air, massive gulps of air.
And then he stopped, pulled out of her and rolled her over. She keened loudly at the loss as he lifted her hips up until her legs touched the floor, grabbed her around the middle and pushed her over, leaning her over on the bed.
He spread her again and pushed himself into what she could only imagine to be her steaming twat. As soon as he started the incessant pummeling she came again. This was more of the same, but while standing it came with some entirely new sensations. She began howling, wailing, sucking in air. She clutched at the duvet and nearly pulled it off the bed. Her head was lolling around like a broken marionette, her boobs had a mind of their own as they bounded and bounced in time with his hammering into her over stimulated slit.
He reached around her, grabbed her left tit and began massaging it.
BANG! She hit another and she literally howled. This one left her fuzzy, weak kneed. She nearly collapsed on the bed. He pulled out again, pushed her onto the middle of the bed and rolled her over. He leaned over her as he used his hand to push his throbbing cock into her once again... But this time he was gentle, his nearly chaste kisses moving her into an even higher plane of orgasmic bliss. She kissed him back. He nuzzled her breasts with his mouth, gently sucking on her areolas and nipples as he slowly pumped in and out of her. She ran her hands up and down his chest and side.
Soon they both began grunting as his thrusts became quicker, deeper into her. In another few moments he shook slightly as he buried his dick and exploded into her. She could feel his seed erupting out of him and into her. That sent her reeling over the edge once again. He collapsed onto her, and then rolled off.
They both lay on the bed, panting. She stared at him wide eyed, and tried, but failed to speak. Finally she got some words out, between gasps.
"Damn... Benson... Damn..." Was all she could manage.
He took her hand, and kissed it, rolled into her back and put his arm around her. He began gently drawing circles on her breasts. As their beating hearts returned to normal, and breath became a non issue, Sam squirmed around to face him, and kissed him soundly while he massaged her rump. She got the idea, and began massaging his as well as they nibbled at each others lips.
Both were silently enjoying their post coital cuddling when the bedroom door slowly swung open, and Melanie stepped into the room.
Hi folks! Just a little three parter I wrote to get myself back in the mood to write, and finish 'The Apartment'. So here is part one! This is finished, all three chapters are written. I'll post the next in a few days, and the final a few days after that. Revue if you will, but in any case, thanks for spending some of your time reading.
And that's right... What the heck is OT 4? Heh heh heh... Keep reading to find out!